


Gelling

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8490187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: In the shower.





	

No one else is around in the Knights of Ren dojo, because they normally sneak in to train together when he knows they won’t be disturbed. To begin with, it was because she shouldn’t be here. Now, it’s in case they get too involved in their wrestling, sparring, or training and end up… well.

You know.

 _Wrestling_.

Today they kept their hands off one another, other than for blocks, parries, blows. She got a few hits in, and he landed a fair few, too. Nothing that will bruise, though she’s looking forwards to the warm water to ease the worst of it out. 

In the shower block, and she’s already stripped, waiting for the water to heat. It’s a luxury the Knight enjoys, and she’s learned to love the feel of it on her skin, too. It patters down hard on the tile, steam rising like a warm embrace, curling around her limbs and kissing over her aches. Her nostrils flare over the scent - sharp, and clean - and she hears him enter behind her.

Unphased, Phasma puts her arms into the spray and lets her palms overflow. It scalds a little for a moment, then she acclimatises to the heat of it, and steps in to cast the handfuls over her shoulders, splashing the way behind in invitation.

The pulse against her scalp is hypnotic and good, and she tilts a closed-lidded face upwards to let the rivulets trace their way around her features to the floor. Curling neat lines that wiggle back and forth over the swell of her breasts, down to circle her legs like serpents. Her hands gather the gel in the dispenser, but then other - larger - hands press over hers, and take over. She revels in the swirl of roughened fingertips chasing up and down her torso, and slides her fingers through her short hair. 

He’s standing far enough back that her rear can’t reach him, but she doesn’t mind. She arches into the patterns of his touches, bites off a hiss when he cups and envelops her breasts. It’s nothing more than slow thumb-strokes, but it’s enough. Phasma reaches over her shoulders to pull him closer, and then there’s a welcome, warm firmness all down her spine. 

They’re not really getting clean, but she doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind when she can reach down to tease over her own belly as his lips kiss damply over her neck. They nip, nibble, bite… tiny sparks of light, and then her nipples twist in opposite directions and her legs part in shock. 

He slips between them, then. Hard and ready, and she clamps her thighs shut but gives him no more than that. If he wants his supper, he’s going to have to work for it.

Behind, she scrapes at his sides, her fingers indelicate from the angle. One of his pushes her breast up and he arches over her shoulder to kiss at the crest of it, his other hand skirting her belly and ghosting a line where her panties normally sit. Left right, left right, the promise of more the problem as she grabs the soap and starts to clean around his fingers, feigning disinterest.

Pretending she’s not as wet as the showerhead when his finger works her nub like it’s a trigger button and there’s enemies all around. Rough - not too rough - taps that make her bite the inside of her mouth and tighten her thighs harder around the trapped cock between them. He starts to rut against her, push between her folds, and she feels the sudden shift as he guides his cock into her like this. 

It’s a stretch, at this angle, and without giving him much in the way of bending, it pulls her apart like flimsi under water. Grunting, she rubs back; feeling the way his fingers now press her clit towards the cock inside of her, and sparks start to fly in her head. 

“You like that?” he asks, and bites at her jaw.  


“ _Harder_ ,” she demands, and braces her hands on the wall.   


If he’s going to fuck her, he can damn well do it right. 


End file.
